The Dancing Detective
by Pakmai
Summary: Sherlock Holmes is a man of many mysteries, and he has many secrets that he keeps about himself. He has finally returned to London after two years, taking to the streets at night to breathe in the city. But this night something else draws him in and he gives in to one of his true passions. Sherlock/OC. One-shot. Post-return, Series 3 (no real spoilers, see inside for details).


**Another idea that popped into my head after seeing series 3, episode 2 of Sherlock. This takes place after episode 1 of series 3, so Sherlock is back from his hiatus. There's no real spoilers for Series 3, so if you haven't seen it, you can still read this safely, and just think about it as a post-return fic.**

**It is intended as a one-shot, but who knows what will happen once I finish up one of the other three stories I'm currently working on!**

**Reviews/comments are welcome, I hope you all enjoy my little drabble.**

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Sherlock Holmes had a secret. It's not particularly lascivious. It's not even scandalous. Well, some may consider it scandalous, given Sherlock's general character. But the secret that didn't ever come up, that no one knew about the famous consulting detective was that he loved to dance. Not the bump and grind that went on in most of the clubs, but the elegant, graceful, traditional dancing. Naturally when he was younger he learned classical ballroom dancing as any son of a wealthy family should. Except that he took to it a little more than most of the other boys and girls there. His brilliant mind latched onto it as much as it did playing the violin.

Things were different now that he came back from the dead. He is at Baker Street alone and that means that the detective is a little more restless than he ever has been before. He's spent the last two years traveling, he's still trying to get used to staying in one place again. And he is trying to get the beat of the city again. Being back in London, re-learning the streets, adjusting his mental map where he needs to. Sherlock often takes to the streets at night now, just wandering becoming one with the city again.

This night however brings him to a very popular area of the city. At night it's buzzing with the throng of people, with bars brightly lit, and the thumping music of clubs escaping their doors and spilling out onto the street. People are dressed in their best, bright colors, shiny fabrics, form fitting clothes that stand out in the crowd, sweating when they stumble out of the heat of the clubs onto the cool streets.

Sherlock watches all of them but he's not one of them, burying his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat, ducking his head a little to hide in his upturned collar as he observes those around him. There is only so long he can resist the allure of the music however. He finds that his feet are leading him toward a place he used to go to more often when he was in university. While it may have some similarities to those other clubs in that people go there to drink, meet people and dance, the quality of people and the style of dancing are what is dramatically different. Finding himself in front of this establishment, the detective allows himself one small smile as he looks up at it before he slips inside, checking his Belstaff at the door before he enters the club itself. Perhaps unsurprisingly in a city the size of London, there are enough people interested in this type of dancing, or at least watching it, that the club is somewhat full, though not as full of the throngs of people that the more popular clubs such as Fabric or Pacha.

The lights are lower, but more like twilight than darkness, lending a more romantic glow to everything. There are no harsh lights in this part of the club. The building is large, a lot of traditional styles of dancing requiring more room than the bump and grind that draws so many people to other clubs. Making his way quietly through the crowds, Sherlock can't help but let himself smile a little as he listens to the music, a mix of classical and modern but with the beat of a waltz which is all that's really important. Downstairs, he knows, is another part to the club, which caters more to the salsa, rhumba and mambo type of dances. And while at times that has attracted him, tonight Sherlock decides to stay on the main floor.

Moving on from watching the couples on the floor, the consulting detective moves toward the bar, smoothing down his dark suit jacket, under which he wears his favorite dark purple button-up shirt. Slowly, he makes his way through the crowd, finding he doesn't recognize anyone but that's just as well. He doesn't want to meet people he already knows. But it's not as if he can dance alone, which means he will have to find a partner of some type. Slowly, he scans the room, taking in everyone before he turns toward the bar, looking over each person curiously. And then he spots a woman at the bar, shorter than him, thin but muscular and athletic. Pale skin, slightly wavy, light ash brown hair that looks as soft as silk and is pulled back from her face, gathered at the back of her head in what looks like a very precarious way, Sherlock can only imagine how easily it would be to pluck the pins and let her hair cascade back down her back.

Catching himself in surprise, Sherlock stops his forward progress and reconsiders that thought. Interesting. It's been a while since he's been attracted to a woman. A long time. Shaking that thought off, he decides she would make a good dance partner and moves over toward her. He can see that she's talking to another man but can easily tell a few things about said man.

He moves behind the woman, ordering a drink from the bartender. He patiently waits until the woman's companion gets up, probably to relieve himself, before he leans over, using his silky voice to its best advantage. "That man is not being honest with you. He's married." Before he leans back a little, sipping his drink as he leans on the bar slightly.

The woman turns around quickly to stare up at Sherlock, though she is stunned for a moment by his looks, admiring the lean figure, the sharp features, the slightly mussed hair and the piercing, blue-green eyes. For a moment she's stunned, and then she shakes her head a little. "And how do you know he's married?" She asks, not sure how she could have misjudged him that badly.

Sherlock smirks a little because that gives him the chance to show off, but he does show a little restraint. "Obvious mark on his left ring finger where he's used to wearing a ring. It's not faded at all, which means he either separated with his wife within the last week or he's just removed it in order to pick up women. The latter seems more likely considering he keeps fiddling with his mobile phone, looking at it as if he's expecting a call or a text. And while work may contribute to this, when talking to a beautiful woman it is unlikely that someone would be so distracted." He says as he watches her. "Not to mention the fact that he received a text right before he excused himself, so likely he's gone off to make a phone call. Not to mention there are already traces of lipstick along his collar." He says before he takes a drink out of his tumbler again, watching the woman in front of him.

The blonde looks at him for a few moments, before she considers. "You look familiar." She says after a moment, before she sighs. "It's so hard to find decent men nowadays." She says as she looks him over slowly, eyes flickering to his left hand.

"Sherlock Holmes." The detective offers, showing his left hand to her with a smirk before he offers it to her, a little amused by her but also quite happy that she didn't get upset with his deductions. That's always an encouraging sigh.

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Holmes. I'm Anna Lanham." The young woman offers, grasping the taller man's hand and shaking it gently. "Wait.. Sherlock Holmes.. that's where I know the name from.. you're that detective.. my cousin is absolutely obsessed with you. I can see why... you're handsome and intelligent.." She says thoughtfully as she looks at him.

Inwardly, Sherlock winces as he gets recognized, but he shakes her hand gently. "It's nice to meet you as well, Anna." he says, deciding to be polite before he adds, "You shouldn't believe everything you read. I'm afraid those two descriptors may be accurate, but the press romanticizes everything else." he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. He decides to get right to the point, watching the woman in front of him. "Would you care to dance?" he asks as he hears one song come to an end, couples moving off the floor.

Anna smirks a little and chuckles. "Right to the point. Alright, then, Mr. Holmes. A dancing detective. Lets see what you've got." she says with a little smirk, arching an eyebrow in challenge.

Taking her hand gently, Sherlock decides to rise to that challenge, leading her onto the dance floor just as the beginning notes of a song start, and he quickly identifies the tune. The Tango. This makes the detective smirk a little as he suddenly brings Anna close to him, taking her hand in his as he looks down into her eyes with an intensity that might make others uncomfortable, but he can see her eyes dilate slightly and feel her pulse kick up a few notches. Yes, the Tango is considered the dance of love, and if anyone had even thought about Sherlock Holmes in respect to dancing, it's doubtful they would have thought of him doing something as sensual as the Tango.

Just because someone doesn't think about it doesn't mean that Sherlock is not capable of it. And many people do not consider half the things that Sherlock can do. For a moment he remains still before he starts to move. Of course, the footwork for the tango is a lot less fancy for the man than the woman, but he still keeps it simple, trusting Anna to pick up on his movements. There are other couples on the floor but Sherlock leads Anna through the throng, his movements graceful and sensual against the form of Anna, watching her intensely.

The young woman moves with the detective, having learned long ago to be able to read the movements of her partner, so she matches him step for step, hooking one leg around his at a point, glad that she wore a looser dress allowing easy movement of her legs, looking away from the taller man at points both because of the intensity of his gaze and the fact that this dance, with someone you are attracted to, can be quite sensual.

The song continues, as do the couples on the floor, and finally when it ends, Sherlock tilts Anna back in a dip before he pulls her up and tight against his body, leaning down for a moment, bringing their clasped hands toward him, draping her arm around his shoulder and behind his neck before he slides his fingertips down her arm, cupping her cheek as he leans in and gives her a soft, slow kiss, having given her plenty of time to object.

Although she is given plenty of time, Anna can't really think of a reason why she wouldn't want to be kissed by this man, her hand sliding into his hair as she responds to his kiss, leaning into him a little more heavily, having forgotten for the moment that they're in the middle of a dance floor.

Finally after a moment, Sherlock pulls away, surprised at himself, but he decides to go with it, giving her a closed-lip smile for a moment. "Thank you for the dance." he says slowly, moving away enough to lead her off of the dance floor back to the bar.

Unfortunately for Anna, by the time they get back to the bar, Sherlock's phone makes a sound that is deafened by the noise around them but the vibration does not go unnoticed. He pulls it out, face lighting up as he sees who the message is from, and he grins a little, before he looks at Anna. "I'm afraid I will have to cut our evening short. There's a murder to be solved." He says brightly as he looks at the woman, before he watches her. "You should come by Baker Street. Or text me, my number's on my website. I'm sure that your cousin will know what it is." he says as he watches her. Not able to control the impulse, he dips his head to give her another brief but slightly intense kiss before he turns to walk away, calling over his shoulder

"The Game is on!"


End file.
